Undercover Quinn
by HenchxWench
Summary: Third in the "Home" series: When Harley infiltrates Arkham to free her husband, she'll take on more than she bargained for. But Gotham will pay for what they've done to her Puddin'.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Harley Quinn stood in the VIP room of the Smile and Grin, sipping her cocktail and peering out of the window that overlooked the club. A pang of nostalgia stabbed her insides as she remembered how she used to dance the nights away in her cage and occasionally sneak in through the window to spend some time with The Joker himself. That was before, when Gotham thought she was just a blonde bimbo that he was using as a toy. Before The Clown Prince-Now-King had married her. And before she'd taken her seat of power by his side. She was no ditzy dame, not by a long shot; although sometimes she wished the underground crime world still thought she was.

It was easier to let J call all the shots and just stick around for the ride, but they had come so far and had become Gotham's "it" power couple, a feat that had taken her years to gain the respect she knew she deserved, even from The Clown himself. And now, here she was, standing where he once stood, holding down the fort and overseeing their kingdom while her husband was locked up in the big house – again.

She couldn't be mad, and realistically she wasn't. After all, if he didn't land himself in Arkham from time to time, they never would have met. But she missed him dearly after only a few weeks, and even though it would be wiser to wait until the literal and figurative smoke from the steel mill explosion cleared out of Gotham, she'd only just gotten him back when he had been taken from her again.

A knock at the door behind her broke her from her thoughts and she turned on her heel. "Come in!" she called and the familiar face of Johnny Frost peaked through the door.

"Mr. Nygma is here for his appointment, boss."

"Send him on up, Frosty," she chimed and she poured her friend a glass of water. There were many things about Edward Nygma aka "The Riddler" that many villians, including her Puddin', didn't quite comprehend. Which, in Gotham, being misunderstood amongst the flock of black sheep had its own set of dangers. However, given Harley's psychological background, she could understand and communicate with Eddie in a way that made their relationship like a couple of siblings.

And there he was, in his head-to-toe green suit, black undershirt, and green tie patterned with purple question marks. He tipped his bowler hat to her before setting it down on the couch along with his question mark cane. Harley extended her elbow to him, which Eddie grinned and reached up to tap his own with her's. It was like their own secret handshake; which Harley had invented to make him more comfortable with her since Eddie wasn't big on physical contact. Along with being a textbook sociopath, Edward Nygma also showed symptoms of Asperger's Syndrome and Obsessive-Compulsive tendencies.

"Eddie! It's good ta see ya!" Harley exclaimed. "Please, sit. I poured ya a drink."

"Thank you, Miss Quinn," he replied, which Harley didn't bother to correct. He'd been calling her 'Miss Quinn' for years, and Harley knew his compulsion would make it difficult and uncomfortable for him to change what he called her, so she had never pressed the issue. The two had a mutually understanding relationship; Harley knew what he needed socially due to her doctorate in psychology, and Edward never once questioned or judged her relationship with The Joker, since he had no interest in anything romantic and didn't much care for social concepts anyhow.

Edward took his seat across from her and Harley followed suit and sat on the couch. "As much as the invitation is appreciated, I confess I'd like to know why you've called me here," he said.

How interesting that the jester had perplexed The Riddler. She smiled at him over her drink before taking a sip.

"Well, Eddie, as you know, my Puddin is currently in the slammer for sending The Wall sky high." Edward grinned; he too had worked for Waller in the past, and was glad to see her gone.

"And the world seems brighter without Amanda Waller clouding up the recesses of my thoughts. Anything I can do for you and The Joker in return for this peace of mind, just say the word." Harley smiled.

"I'm glad you feel that way," her grin widened over her face. "I need to get into Arkham undercover."

"So, you need a false identity to get close to The Joker and get the scoop on his whereabouts. I can help with that." Harley clapped her hands and squeaked with giddy excitement.

"Where should we start, Eddie?" The Riddler grinned and pushed his glasses up the bridge of nose.

"What's something that belongs to you, but everyone else uses?" Harley chewed her lip for a moment in thought before breaking into a grin.

"A name?"

"Bingo."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Patent leather pumps clicked along the familiar walls, the sound bouncing off the concrete walls and ringing in Harley's ears almost deafeningly. As much as she hated this hell hole, she already felt better knowing she was under the same roof as her Puddin'. Only here, she was no longer Harley Quinn, and certainly not Harleen Quinzel.

She and Eddie had created the alias of Rebecca Clawson, graduate from Stanford University, and recent widow of Jack Clawson – which explained the thick rose-gold wedding band which covered her "J" tattoo. Her blonde hair had been braided and pinned up under a chestnut brown bob-cut wig. She wore what felt like enough make-up to be, well, a clown, except it wasn't the grease paint she longed for. Instead, she wore enough two-shades-too-dark foundation to make her skin tone look normal, and maybe even a bit sun-kissed from being a recent graduate; not to mention she needed to cover her face and neck tattoos. A navy blue, tight, turtleneck dress clung to her curves, her lab coat covered the tattoos on her arms, and dark pantyhose covered those on her legs.

It had been weeks since she'd infiltrated the asylum - she'd had two job interviews; one working interview shadowing her supervisor, Dr. Newman; and then a group interview. Hell, she'd almost forgotten what a pain the ass earning her previous position as The Joker's shrink had been. And then once she'd been hired, come to find out it wasn't even The Joker she had been assigned to. She had to feign excitement when she'd instead been assigned to The Mad Hatter. But she knew she would just have to be patient – all she had to do was pretend to be interested in Jervis and turn her reports in on time like a good noodle. It was only a matter of time before the bimbo who was currently assigned to her Puddin' would either become a crying mess or just a mess on the floor.

Sure enough, it was another boring Tuesday when "Rebecca" was sitting in her office typing away on her notes and occasionally taking a break to stretch at her desk. She looked around at the staged photos she and Eddie had taken - aka "Jack" her "husband." She chuckled to herself at his cleverness – there was a wedding photo at her desk where she wore a longer chestnut brown wig with golden highlights running through the length, her hair in elegant curls; while Eddie had worn a fake moustache, and slicked his hair back. It was amazing how simply removing his boulder cap and glasses made him look like a completely different person.

Suddenly a loud scream broke her thoughts and she stood at her desk and rushed outside into the hall as though she didn't know what had happened. Dr. Samantha Brown stood in the corridor, her red hair pulled into a long ponytail, her glasses long forgotten in a crunchy mess on the ground as her mascara ran down her face in black balls of tears. She was talking to the head director, Dr. Rick Newman. Boy how the faces in this place were a revolving door. Literally no one she had worked with as Harleen worked here now, though she supposed that was in her best interest.

Now was her chance to move; though she had to bite her tongue as she heard her husband's cackling laugh from behind the door of the interview room as the guards banged around clumsily in their attempt to detain him.

"What happened?" Rebecca asked, her voice thick with concern a she reached for the girl's shoulder to touch her gently.

"Oh Becca, it was awful!" Sam sobbed as she buried her face into her colleague's shoulder and sobbed. "He wouldn't even look at me through the entire session. He just kept giving me a different sad story about his father taking him to a circus…or an ice show…I don't know I've heard it so many times I get the stories mixed up." She peaked around to Dr. Rick who patted her back in understanding. "And then, just when I thought I was about to make a breakthrough, he started calling me 'Red' and just getting…very upset with me. I think he slipped into a psychosis and thought he was talking to Poison Ivy!" Rebecca quickly shoothed her distraught co-worker to stop herself from laughing.

"Dr. Brown, why don't you take the rest of the week off? We'll have a new assignment for you on Monday," Dr. Newman said softly, trying to be understanding of the poor girl's situation, but it was hard for him to mask his frustration. Sam snuffled and tried to mop up her face with her sleeve as she nodded and headed to her office to collect her belongings. Once she was out of ear shot, Dr. Newman sighed and turned to who he believed to be Dr. Clawson.

"That's the third therapist he's pissed through in the past two weeks," he admitted to her, his voice heavy and agitated. "I don't see why they bother sending the clown here! He just fucks with the feng shui of the whole damn institution." He caught himself and looked to Rebecca apologetically. "I apologize Dr. Clawson. I shouldn't let him get to me." She put her hand on his arm and smiled to him.

"That's quite alright Dr. Newman. I understand how you must be feeling: no one is beyond help, but he needs to want the help first before we can begin to crack this cookie." Newman laughed heartily at her statement.

"What, you think you can do a better job with The Clown Prince himself?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. But what do you have to lose?" Dr. Newman snorted.

"It's not me I'm worried about losing something so much as you."

"You let me worry about me. Your job is to assign everyone to whom you think they can best help." Newman gave a hefty sigh as he mulled over her words, then looked to her again and nodded.

"Trade your notes with Dr. Brown when she comes back on Monday and finish out the week with Tetch. You'll start with The Joker on Monday." Rebecca smiled and shook his hand – she didn't have to feign excitement for this opportunity.

"You won't be disappointed."

 **A/N: Thank you all so much for your interest in my latest installment! I'm really excited to see where this one ends up going. Thanks for sticking with me – I know we're off to a little bit of a slow start, but our clowns will be reunited soon! Thank you again, and as always, please read and review!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The weekend came and went, though for Harley it had creeped by like a slug in a rain storm. She'd done everything she could to keep her mind busy from simply watching the seconds tick by until she'd get to see her husband again. She'd been through three packs of cigarettes, two coloring books, and had offed at least half a dozen henchmen, simply from boredom. But finally, the day was here and as she lifted her arms for the security guards to frisk her, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from giggling with glee.

The buzzer sounded and the locked, armored door creaked open to reveal the bleak, grey walls of the initial interview room. Their first session would be closely guarded, given The Joker's current outbursts. The steel table and chairs were bolted to the concrete floor, and there he sat in his straight jacket and shackles: his green hair was disheveled in his face, his face gaunt from a lack of food, his lips cracked and pale, his one eye blue and green from bruising and swollen shut, the other blood shot, darkened, and cloudy. It took everything in Harley's power not to weep at his condition.

She sat down gingerly across from him, taking care not to startle him in this state. She laid out her notes and got a pen ready to start writing, keeping her eyes trained on the fallen clown king before her. Once the door slammed shut and locked behind her, she reached out to touch his face.

"What the hell have they done to you?" she whispered frantically, trying to hide how much her voice was shaking. These sessions were not recorded or monitored due to patient confidentiality, but she didn't want the guards outside to hear her either.

The Joker moved his face away and a grin cracked across his face, but not like she'd seen in a long time. He looked maddened, furious, like a caged wild animal ready to attack at the first chance he got.

"Easy now _doctor_ ," the word clung to his breath in a mocking tone, "I am married, after all. Not that you care. The opportunity to speak with The Clown Prince of Crime. I'm sure you're just looking for your claim to fame hm? What school did you graduate from hm, _doctor?_ Which cereal box did your PIECE OF SHIT DIPOLMA COME FROM?!"

He had no idea who she was, no idea that his wife was even sitting in front of him. Anger bubbled in her stomach. They must have given him enough sedatives and anti-psychotics to knock down a bull elephant. And given The Joker's ability to metabolize toxins, all it was doing was tearing through his metabolism with enough force to give his psyche whiplash.

Harley stood and walked over to the emergency button and slammed her fist into it, bruising her knuckles, but she was beyond caring. The guards rushed in, rifles pointed at the clown, but they paused and looked back to 'Dr. Clawson' in confusion.

"I want Dr. Newman in here. NOW."

"Dr. Newman's at lunch, Dr. Clawson," the guard replied, keeping his gun trained on the Joker as his laughter began to fill the room.

"Wow Doc I think that's a world record! The shortest session I've ever had in the history of my stays here at Chateau Arkham!" he cackled. "Where'd they find this one? Must be slim pickings out there!"

"Did I stutter?" she asked the guard. "I want him to see exactly how his patients are being treated. Now go grab him before I do!" One of the guards marched away while the other stayed with 'Rebecca' to protect her, which was almost laughable in of itself. A few moments later, Dr. Newman raced in, huffing and out of breath.

"Dr. Clawson, what is the meaning of this?" he panted.

"Dr. Newman, I apologize for the inconvenience but I thought you would want to be informed as to just how your patients are being treated. This man has been beaten, starved, and is drugged beyond belief – explain to me how I'm supposed to treat a man's mind when you're clouding it beyond recognition of what is even happening around him?" Harley struggled to keep her accent under wraps as her temper rose.

"Dr. Clawson, this was my order for your own protection."

"Protection?" she echoed. "Have you not even read his file?" And awkward silence filled the room – apparently the answer was no. Harley sighed in frustration before continuing. "The Joker's ability to metabolize nearly any toxin makes sedatives and the like have the opposite pharmacological effect." Even The Joker had stopped laughing at this point, his eyes trained on Dr. Clawson as though he were trying to peer through a fog.

"You seem familiar…did I buy girl scout cookies from your troop last summer?" J asked her. She mentally thanked her husband for further proving her point.

"My apologies, Doctor," Newman replied, shamefully shuffling his feet. "From now on I'll entrust all aspects of The Joker's recovery with you solely - save for a few safety protocols."

Bingo.

"Thank you, Dr. Newman." Harley looked to the guards now. "I want him taken to a private room in the infirmary at once. Tell the nurse I want IV fluids and a glucose drip on this patient at shock doses." They hesitated, but did as she asked. "I'll be right behind you," she called after them, her tone nearly threatening.

Her plan for The Joker's escape would need to be tweaked now, but every staff member in here would feel the wrath of a woman scorned.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Doctor Clawson sat next to her patient in the infirmary for the third day in a row. Although he was in a medically induced coma to allow his body to pump out the drugs in his system, she insisted it was imperative to his recovery that he sense a constant presence whenever possible by his side, stating it would aid in her gaining his trust once he awoke and could return to their therapy sessions. The compromise to this was that he would be bound to the bed in thick leather restraints.

It was on this third day that his eyelids finally fluttered open, and although his eyes were still cloudy with stupor, his face had already cleared up from the abuse he had endured from the security guards.

"Hello, Doctor," The Joker said to her. He seemed disappointed that it was her by his side.

"Expecting someone else?" she asked him, playing along with her role as his psychiatrist.

"I was hoping you would be my wife...I thought I smelled her perfume."

"Your wife, huh?" she asked, pretending to take a note for the sake of the guard and nurse stationed in the room with them. She still had to play her part, for now.

"Yes, my beloved harlequin. Don't believe what the textbooks tell ya, doc. Lesson number one from your dear old Uncle Joker: whatever label you've decided to put on me – a sociopath, a narcissist, I've heard them all, but they all have one thing in common – an inability to form relationships. But I prefer the term 'selective.'" She could tell this was the beginning of one of his monologues, though still partly drug induced, and she stayed silent as she let him continue. "You see doc, before she came along, I didn't think anyone would really every understand me, not that anyone ever bothered to truly try aside from the bad ol' bat. She was never part of the plan, hell I almost killed her more than once, but she still stuck around and dug in her little claws deep enough through this hard exterior to find the heart within the clown. Looking into her angelic eyes and seeing the fires of hell behind them, well, it's like looking into a mirror, you see. She takes all of my best qualities and puts this sensual feminine twist on everything I've ever stood for."

Hearing him ramble on to whom he believed to be a stranger about her was almost too much to take. It took every bit of her not to throw her arms around him with a resounding 'Puddin!' and take him out of here this instant. But she knew she had to wait, or they wouldn't get very far past the door. Instead, she wiped a tear from her eye and placed her hand on his arm.

"That was lovely, Mister Joker. I'm sure your wife would have loved to hear it."

"Don't tell her if you see her, ay doc? Patient confidentiality and all that. Don't want her to think her husband is an old softie." He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "On second thought, I wish she'd heard it. Could have been my ticket out of the dog house for a while." And there was the façade again. He paused and lifted his head from the pillow slightly to look at her better. "Say, why are you so easy to talk to, doc?" Dr. Clawson chuckled and patted his arm.

"It's my job, Mister Joker," she said simply. He laid his head back down and sleep took him once more. Harley pretended to take a few more notes and stood before heading to her office to type up her report for the day.

 **A/N:** **This one's a shorter chapter since the next one was getting a bit lengthy. How's that for making up for lost time – two short chapters in one day and a long one in the works?**

 **Thank you so much for all of your support and reviews! I know this was really OOC for J, but I'm keeping in mind that he's still in this drugged state and isn't censoring himself from his "doctor" because of it. Not to mention, I'd like to think his subconscious knows it's her. I hope you're enjoying the ride so far! Thanks again!**

 **~HxW**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

By Friday, The Joker was back in his cell and his toxicology screen was completely clear, which meant they could continue their therapy sessions as they had originally been planned. Dr. Clawson had requested their next session be held in one of the more comfortable exam rooms, which had a big recliner and a couch, along with minimal guards and no restraints. Dr. Newman had asked if she needed a cell for herself set aside, but she'd merely laughed and gone on about how she had to trust her patient if he was to trust her and so on and so forth.

Again, Harley was frisked before entering the room and she waited until the door closed and locked behind them before dropping her guard and looking up at her husband. There he stood as she had expected to see him earlier this week: his hair slicked back but starting to fall from using water alone, his face clear and bright, his eyes looking over her with a mixture of anger and pride. This was her husband as she knew him.

"You lied to me," he snapped at her. Her face fell and she looked up at him.

"Come again?" she asked.

"Cut the doctor shit, Harls. Why didn't you tell me you were you?" And back to being sharp as a tack, too.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that woulda gone ova well. 'Good mornin' Mistah J! It's me, Harley, ya therapist.' The guards definitely would have let me keep my job. Which I worked my _ass_ off for to come get _your_ chalky white ass, by the way!" Her accent was thicker than usual from being contained for so long and The Joker couldn't help but grin from ear-to-ear from hearing her voice ring like music to his ears. He said nothing but opened his arms to her, earning him an excited squeak from his queen as she rushed into them and threw her own arms around his torso.

"I've missed you," he admitted under his breath, as though he didn't intend for her to hear him. They embraced for a moment before she looked up at him and, in the blink of an eye, his lips were attached to hers as though he needed her more than oxygen. She returned his passion, her fingers raking through his green hair as they became entrapped within each other once more. Finally, The Joker broke their embrace and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. "What in the hell are you thinking? You should be home running the club and letting Frost do this shit." She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Joke's on you, Mistah J. I've been doin' both. Ain't been doin' much sleepin', but if ya wanna job done right, ya always told me to do it yerself…or myself in this case." She giggled before adding, "Pretty sure my blood is double shot espressos by now tho. Feels like I'm in med school all over again, runnin' off the shakes and all." The Joker gave a laugh and reached up to pet her head but frowned when he was greeted with her bobbed wig.

"Please tell me this isn't yours?"

"It's a wig, Mistah J, scouts honor." He breathed a sigh of relief before sitting on the couch and petting the cushion next to him for her to take a seat. She obliged and kicked her legs up over his lap as she leaned back into the sofa.

"So, what's the plan here, Poor Bear? Are we doing the ol' switch-a-roo routine? Hiring some poor sap off the street and dressing him up like me to take my place while you and I slip out the back to Johnny's awaiting van?"

"It was," she stated, her voice changing to a darkened tone. "But it ain't now. After what they did to you? No sir, every person in this shit hole is on my hit list. This is gonna be a bloody one, Mistah J. A blaze of glory and guts, just like ya like." A maniacal grin twisted over The Joker's lips at his wife's words.

"Careful now, Harls, you get me all hot and bothered when you turn all vengeful like that. And it's been _far_ too long." The Joker stood and started pacing the room, partly because if he continued to sit near her he'd end up ravaging her right there on the couch, and as much as he usually didn't give two shits about who happened across their maritals, they were running out of time on their session and they needed to keep her cover – for now.

He paused as a thought seemed to cross his mind and turned on his heel to face her once more. "As we skip merrily down the halls, we unlock a cell for every guard, doctor, or staff member we off, releasing the chaos of this hell hole onto the unsuspecting Gotham city outside. It'll be like a game!" he stated with a grin crossing his face once more.

"I do like games," Harley giggled as she sat up and grinned at him. "Should I organize the boys tonight?"

"Not this time, Harley girl. Just make sure we have a getaway car parked nearby. What do you say baby, just you and me?" He reached his pinky out to her in a solemn oath and she wrapped her thin digit around his as she beamed up at him.

"Let's do it."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Harley and The Joker continued their fake sessions during the week while the goons in J's lab were cooking up some assorted bombs and sprays filled with Joker toxin, along with some other odds and ends that needed attending to. Harley had made a point to learn Dr. Brown's schedule during her stay at Arkham; she'd decided she had a personal vendetta against the doctor who had set her plans back by prescribing so many poisons to her Puddin – or at least that was the way Harley saw things. Aside from letting J in on her plan to make Samantha Brown no longer employable at Arkham, she had decided to fly solo on this one.

She found herself in her full Dr. Clawson costume while dropping off The Joker's purple pinstripe suit, which was concealed in a black garment bag, when she "happened" to run into Dr. Brown, who was getting a few lab coats dry cleaned that day – as Harley had discovered she did every Monday via the goon she'd had tailing the doctor, whom she was now on a first name business with.

"Wow Becky, imagine running into you here!" Sammy exclaimed cheerfully as the door to the laundromat gave a 'ding' to announce her presence.

"Sammy! Hi!" Rebecca replied, doing her best to sound surprised at 'running into her.'

"Listen, I can't thank you enough for taking over The Joker file for me. Is there anyway I could ever repay you?" Jackpot.

"Well, now that you mention it, I have a few questions about your notes…and to be honest I haven't had a home cooked meal since…." Rebecca trailed off as she tried to remember, leaving Sam to fill in the blank space with a chuckle.

"I'd love to have you over for dinner tonight! I live alone, so I could definitely use the company." This was too easy.

"Perfect! I'll come by your place around 6ish?' Rebecca replied as Samantha wrote her address down on the back of one of the laundromat's business cards – as though Harley even needed it.

"It's a date!" Samantha replied, waving as she and Becca went their separate ways on the sidewalk.

Meanwhile inside, the poor laundromat owner opened Harley's black garment bag to find The Joker's purple pinstripe suit along with a note written in sparkling red gel pen reading: If ya go to the cops, I'll burn down yer shop…xoxo HQ.

Around the time of 6:00, Harley arrived at Dr. Brown's apartment. It was nice; nicer than her's had been during this point in her internship, that was for sure - it must be nice to come from money. She took a deep breath and situated her t-shirt to come down over the waistband of her jeans before raising her hand to knock on the door. It opened quickly and she was met with Samantha's bright and cheery smile. Harley had to work to pull up a smile in return instead of clocking the bitch right in her stupid face, reminding herself that she still had to play the part of Rebecca, at least until Samantha invited her in.

"Becky! I'm so glad you made it!" she said as she stepped aside, unknowing of what and who exactly was entering her home.

"Wow, nice place you have!" Rebecca replied as she kicked off her sneakers before walking onto the carpet. The tiny, two-person dining table was already set, complete with roast, mashed potatoes, and some wine. Well, Harley decided, there was no harm in enjoying the food first.

During dinner the two chit-chatted about this and that; what shows they kept up with, any drama from the office, who they thought would make it through med school and who wouldn't. Once they'd eaten their fill, Samantha sat back and asked the question Harley had been waiting for.

"So, how's The Clown Prince himself doing?" her tone was condescending, as though she truly didn't understand just how brilliant he was. Shows what she knew.

"It's fascinating," Becca replied, keeping her tone flat and holding back her accent. "I've always been interested in these super criminals and, let's face it, I've got the crème of the crop, thanks to you." Samantha rolled her eyes.

"He's really not all that great, it's all a media scam. Don't get me wrong, he's a textbook psychopath. The way he came at me during our last session…" she trailed off and shuddered.

"You know, he wouldn't have lashed out at you like that if you hadn't doped him up," Rebecca replied sternly as she reached into her pocket to play with the dice that lay there. She'd decided to test out one of the new prototypes the boys had been working on.

"Becky, don't tell me you're defending him. I had to drug him for my own safety!" She paused and looked her colleague over. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were falling for him like that quack, Harley Quinn." Harley's shoulders started shaking with anger.

"Quack huh?" she asked, her thick accent dripping just as much as the venom in her voice. "Ya didn't even think to look up how his body would react to yer pharmaceutical cocktail! He works with toxins all the time, for Christ sake. Hell, he was _born_ out of a vat of Ace chemicals - ya didn't think he _might_ have a different reaction to drugs. Huh? Did ya!?" Samantha looked taken aback, her eyes flashed with fear.

"B-becca? I didn't know you had an accent…it's funny you kind of sound like…" she trailed off as realization hit her face. Harley threw the dice across the table and they skittered to a halt, coming up snake-eyes.

"Yahtzee!" she exclaimed as the green gas started pouring out of the tiny holes and filling the air faster than Samantha could try and run. Her chair fell to the ground with a thud and she cough and sputtered as she tried not to inhale. Harley took her wig off and cast it aside, her pink and blue tipped locks tumbling down to her shoulders as she stalked over to her prey. She kneeled next to Samantha as an eerie grin spread across the girl's face and the laughter took over, her eyes tearing as she tried to catch her breath.

"Who's the quack now?" Harley spat as she made sure Samantha could confirm who she was really confessing to.

"You're…. I should have….known …." Sam coughed through her hysterical, unnatural laughter.

"Shoulda. But didn't. Night night toots!" Harley stood and dialed her cell as she inhaled the Joker toxin around her. Oh, how she'd missed the smell. "Johnny, loop back around. We're done here, tell the boys to bring a mop. Oh! And come hungry. There's plenty a leftovas."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I assure you, I have not abandoned nor forgotten this fic. It's just been hard for me to find the time to sit down and write. Plus, I'll admit I'm having a bit of a writer's block here – I know where I want this to go, I'm just not 100% certain on how to get there.**

 **Anyway, I hope everyone had a very happy holiday season! Happy New Year!**

Chapter 7

Word had spread quickly through Arkham about what had happened to poor sweet Sammy. And Harley hadn't exactly tried to hide the fact that it was her – she'd let the boys tear the apartment apart and take any valuables they wanted. Johnny had even found a gorgeous gold tennis bracelet for Harley, which she'd added to her collection of trophy watches that decorated her arm when she was playing Manager Harley. They'd even given it the famous Joker touch – the infamous "HAHAHA" spray painted over Sam's walls, any family photos had smiles and moustaches drawn on in sharpie before being placed back into broken frames.

That being said, it was only a matter of time before Batman paid a visit to Arkham. First, he'd interrogated The Joker of course, who only laughed and sincerely expressed to him that he really had no idea what he was talking about, but that he'd like to shake the real killer's hand whenever he, or she, was discovered.

"Liar!" Batman growled. "Your insignia is all over that girl's apartment!"

"Come on now, Batsy. When have you known me to give another person credit where credit's due?" He'd had a point there; Joker's narcissistic tendencies usually led him to immediately and proudly confess to any crime he'd ever committed.

With this knowledge in hand, Batman had no choice but to storm out, slamming the door behind him in hopes to drown out the clown's laughter as its echo followed him down the hall to Dr. Clawson's office. He knocked on the door and was met with a watery sounding sniffle and a "Come in!"

He opened the door and was met with a woman crying at her desk, used Kleenex covering any notes or plank spaces across the wooden surface.

"Dr. Clawson, it's a pleasure…though I wish this were on better terms."

"Of course, Mister…um…Bat?" Dr. Clawson chuckled through her tears. "Excuse me if I'm being rude. Please, have a seat," she sniffled as she gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

"Not at all. You've been through quite a rough week. You've lost a colleague at the hands of your own patient."

"Thanks for the update," Dr. Clawson muttered through her tissue, sounding offended. Batman cleared his throat; this clearly was not his usual approach.

"Dr. Clawson, excuse me if I'm being…blunt. This is not usually the way I gather information from…" he trailed off and Dr. Clawson gave a sharp laugh.

"Am I a suspect?" she asked sarcastically. "My colleague, whom I considered a friend, is dead, and you're here to question me?" Batman decided to cut to the chase to avoid her questions.

"Did Joker mention anything to you about Dr. Brown? That he'd wanted her dead at all?"

"No. He didn't. We mostly discuss his childhood – he feeds me stories which change frequently. The same ones he feeds to every psychiatrist he's ever had. Don't you think I would have I _warned_ someone?"

"I understand your tactics during therapy can be a bit…risky. You frequently reject security. Is that right?" Dr. Clawson sighed heavily.

"How do you people expect him to open up to me if there's a gun pointed to his head for the entire session?"

"I'm just saying, you may want to consider guarded sessions. You might be next." And with a wave of his clock, the Bat left her office, not wanting to further piss the woman off. She was clearly telling the truth. Or so he thought.

A smile spread across Harley's face; not only did The Bat buy her act as poor sad Dr. Clawson mourning her stupid pathetic co-worker, he didn't even suspect Harley Quinn as the killer of Samantha Brown. After all this time, he still believed she was that stupid? If it wasn't so favorable for her, she would have been offended.

 **A/N: PS – This will be the last in the series from "Home," but I do plan to keep writing after this series. Would you all be more interested in some one shots, or an origin story (which I know, I know, "the horse is dead, stop beating it" but I really do want to write one)? Just so I have a starting point. I'll eventually write both, but I just want to see which one you guys would like to read first. Thank you so much for sticking with me! Chapter 8 is currently being written - I don't plan to go on another super lengthy hiatus this time. Love you guys!**

 **~HxW**


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